The sting of his dad’s rejection hadn’t faded completely, but I’d managed to push it to the back of my mind, and Barclay avoided all mention of them so I thought I’d leave it be for now. Mr and Mrs Lucas did visit Henry again but, luckily, I’d been working long hours so didn’t have to endure any more disapproval.
Although Barclay was back late most nights, there had been the odd one where he’d managed to get home in good time, for one of which I cooked my speciality: vegan Moussaka. (I’d made Pav’s mum teach me how to make the trad version a couple of years ago then replaced all the ingredients – apart from the aubergine. Mrs Martakis was less than impressed with my ‘new-age version’. ‘How can it be Mousakka without lamb, Kiroula mou?’ she’d cried, then made me promise never to tell anyone that her recipe had ‘helped to create this monstrosity’. Seriously, Greek mamas could really bring the drama.) Okay, so it didn’t tastegreatand Henry might have winced more than a little on his first swallow then refused to eat the rest, but Barclay had manfully scoffed the entire plate down without one retch, which I decided to take as a compliment. Hemayhave had a huge order from Cook of luxury ready meals delivered the next day ‘just to make it easier for you and Henry’, but I tried not to take that as an insult.
“I told you yesterday,” I said, feeling the happy glow of seeing Barclay in the daylight start to fade, “about the vegan packed lunches I make for Mark? I said I had the day off after doing nights and I could bring you one in. You agreed.”
“I did?”
“Well, you were half asleep post . . .” I made two mouth clicks and a whistle (my standard terminology for sexy times) “. . . in bed at the time. But you did nod and make a hmm sound, which I took as a green light.”
He rubbed his forehead again and I decided to hold theFrozenlunch box behind my back with both hands.
“Kira, I . . .” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I must not have been listening.”
“Oh.”
“It’s just difficult to make out everything you say because, well . . . there’s quite a lot of information to process.”
“Ah, right.” I wasn’t a complete numpty. I knew he was saying I banged on about so much random shit that it was tricky to pay attention to it all. But the thing wasIhung onhisevery word. I found everything he told me interesting. Even the boring politics stuff was interesting. So, in that moment I felt small. The old Kira would have busted his balls, but since Smarmy Simon had been eroding my confidence at work, I was finding New Post-Smarmy-Simon Kira was a bit of an insecure, anxious wimp. I’d be chuffed to bits if Barclay came tomywork. Barclay looked horrified that I was at his.
I let out a small laugh that sounded shaky even to my own ears and I started backing away to the door. “I’ll just get going then.”
“Kira, I really am sorry,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t–”
“No!” I said a little sharper than I’d anticipated, and Barclay took a step towards me. “No, it’s fine. You’re busy sorting out the House of Commons, one Tory at a time. And I’ve volunteered to cover a clinic this afternoon, and then there’s my thing this evening.”
“What thing?”
“My charity event. The one I told you about?”
“That’s tonight? Oh, Kira. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise–”
“No, no. Don’t be crazy. It’s not a big deal.’
I’d turned the door handle but his large hand appeared above it, blocking me.
“Thank you,” he said, taking his hand off the door and using both to turn me to face him. “I’m sure I’ll love my vegan lunch.”
One of his hands on my shoulders slid down to my hand, which was clutching the offending lunch for dear life. He tugged at the handle and I tried to hold on to it, but he was too strong. After this conversation there was no way I wanted him seeing what I’d put in the box. But once he managed to get it away from me, he put it on the desk behind him, out of my reach. After that manoeuvre, his hands went to my jaw, he tilted my head back and kissed me. The Barclay-sensitive trip switch in my brain shut off rational thought and I kissed him back. This was what I needed. With Barclay, I could feel the stress and anxiety of the last week falling away. I was still in a daze as he guided me through the door and down another corridor, at the end of which was Sam. As Sam led me away to the waiting car, I tried not to feel like I was being escorted out by security, but I couldn’t quite manage it.
*****
Barclay
I opened up the insane Disney Princess lunch box Kira had brought me . . . to the House of Commons. When I’d seen her in the foyer, I’d been talking to two of the most influential MPs in politics, and there she was dressed like a five-year-old on steroids.
Unpredictable.
That was the best word to describe her. She was a loose cannon. My security team even called her Liability – that was her actual code name. Her face when I’d snapped at her swam into my mind and I winced. Okay, maybe it wasn’t ideal her turning up in the middle of the day when Parliament was in session and discussing genital warts in front of other Cabinet ministers, but did I have to be such a dick about it? The problem was really mine. My thoughts were consumed with her and I’d never felt so undisciplined in my life. During the last Cabinet meeting, I had taken a full minute to realise that the Prime Minster was asking me a question. For me that was unheard of and I couldn’t afford such a big distraction, not with everything that was happening with the new Energy Workers Rights Bill.
Every time I saw Kira it was like I fell deeper and deeper under her spell. She was like a drug. I came home late last night – I hadn’t really needed to stay in the office so long, but the only control I felt I could exert was to try and limit my time with Kira. When I arrived, I found her sitting cross-legged on the sofa next to Henry. She was wearing a tight t-shirt with no bra, a pair of knickers (she told me they were ‘boy-shorts’. They looked like knickers to me and, more importantly, I bloody knew by the smirk on Henry’s face that the bastard thought the same and appreciated the view) and . . . leg warmers.
Leg warmers.
I knew nothing about women’s fashion, but I was pretty sure that leg warmers had not been commonplace sinceFlashdancehad been in cinemas in the eighties. The absolute ridiculousness of Kira’s scantily clad body being adorned with neon leg warmers –, as if the only area of concern for heat loss were her lower legs minus her feet (which were bare of course, her small toenails painted a bright shade of purple) – would have made me laugh in other circumstances. But with my bloody brother sitting too bloody close to her on the sofa, I was not in the mood to find anything about it funny. So I’d grabbed the blanket off the back of the armchair, covered Kira with it up to her chin, and plonked myself between her and Henry.
“Ah, you’re such a cutie-patootie,” Kira had said, snuggling into my side under the blanket like a small kitten.
The familiar sensation of falling overcame me as I clamped my arm around her and kissed her silky red and pink hair, and it wasn’t a feeling I was entirely comfortable with. It was a wave of such intense attraction mixed with protectiveness and warmth that it almost felt painful – and it definitely did not feel in my control. I had never felt like that about any of the other women in my life. None of them had made my throat dry and my chest tight. And I knew that I wouldn’t have been bothered about any of them sitting on the sofa with my brother, however little clothing they were wearing.
